


Straight To You

by SometimeLonely



Series: The Rogers-McCoy Clan [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magic Wars, One Big Happy Family, leaving the nest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimeLonely/pseuds/SometimeLonely
Summary: Neville Rogers, adopted son of Steve Rogers and Leonard McCoy, is invited by Loki and Frigga to help make certain the dark magic being sensed from the United Kingdom is kept under control.  Though raised in magic he's never been a part of any one community and the wars of his birth nation are unknown to him.  As he involves himself in a magic war he never thought he would be a part of he will find more than fighting skills.  He will find family he never knew, knowledge he never thought to gain and a love to last the ages.





	1. A Wedding and An Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter, Avengers, Star Wars, The Losers, etc...The use of these characters and plot points is purely for entertainment. No monetary compensation is gained from this publication.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope this is enjoyed. I really love writing about this big family.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Nev?"

Neville Rogers, soon to be Neville Rogers-McCoy, smiled when his sister sidled up to him, a smile spreading on her pretty face, a blush high in her cheeks, her flowy tea length dress settling gracefully around her calves as she wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his ribcage, considering she only came up to just under his armpit. He pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, setting his chin to the top of her head with a grin. She was just tipsy enough to allow it, even giggling at his antics and leaning back against him, even though she wasn't usually one to snuggle in any way. He huffed a little, trying to prevent a sneeze, when the flowers in the crown settled on top of her flowing magenta hair nearly went up his nose.

"It is a beautiful day," he agreed, looking out at the spacious backyard that he had helped into blooming when the two men he now called fathers had decided that that they wanted an early summer wedding before most of the flowers of their garden were ready to come up from the soil. The man who had loved him from the day the kindly professor had brought him to him, the only man he'd ever really known as a father, was dancing, barefoot and with his youngest brother on his hip, with the man he'd so deeply fallen in love with. The grumpy, golden-hearted doctor who had come into their town and their lives and settled them in way nothing but love could have been able to do, was laughing with his head thrown back, nothing but joy written on his face, as he laughed at the chubby fingers of the baby patting his face and swayed off-rhythm to the bluegrass tunes that floated around the yard.

He'd suspected from the day that his father had invited the doctor and his daughter to their home that this was where everything was headed. He'd never seen his father so relaxed, so settled into himself, and so…happy. Neville had never gotten the feeling that his father wasn't happy, but he'd always seemed a little lonely, like there was a little piece of his soul that his children couldn't bring joy to no matter how hard they tried. But, from the moment Leonard McCoy came to them it had been different. Not only for their father. Neville would be the first to admit that they hadn't realized it, but they needed Leonard, or Papa, and Johanna just as much as their dad did. It hadn't taken long for the kids to decide they were meant to be a family and it was a joy to watch their fathers try to deny just how quickly and thoroughly they were falling in love. Exactly none of them had been surprised when their fathers had come home, sat them all down, and asked how they felt about becoming a family.

"Nice that you finally caught up," Kurt had snorted.

"We were just waiting on you two," JoJo agreed before jumping at them both and wrapping her arms around their necks. That had been the cue for the rest of them to pile onto the two laughing men and there hadn't been a day they'd been apart since.

"They're so in love," Clarice sighed when he sat down on the porch swing and pulled her down with him.

"They are," he agreed after a while watching the man who'd raised them both dance with such joy, pulling her bare feet into his lap and rubbing them gently, "Who let you into the champagne, little one?"

He'd called her little one since they both hit puberty and he began to tower over her. At first it had been to annoy her, but as they'd gotten older and realized that she wasn't going to grow any more than she already had it had become a loving nickname. Only he was allowed to use it, just as she was the only one allowed to call him giant.

"Nana said as long I didn't try to drive she wouldn't tell Daddy or Papa." Clarice yawned and laid her head on the pillow covered arm rest, closing her heavy eyes, asleep in seconds.

"And the sickness she will be treated to the next days will be more than enough to make her realize that the wine is not as glamourous as she would like to think."

Neville looked up at the woman he called grandmother and grinned, "You're a crafty one, Nana."

"Where do you think your uncle learned it from?" She asked with a wink, "I've always worried more about her than any of the rest of you when it comes to drink. Have a glass or two if you'd like, love. I trust you not to overindulge. Dance. Enjoy yourself. I'll watch over Clarice for a time."

"Thanks, Nana."

"Not at all, my darling," She smiled and they switched places, Frigga placing Clarice's feet in her own lap and settling herself comfortably, swinging a little as Neville smiled at them both. He turned to go into the yard and subsequently into the party and was stopped short when his grandmother grabbed his wrist gently and brought his palm to her lips.

"What is troubling you, my lamb?" she asked quietly, her wise eyes looking up at him through her lashes, "You have ever been able to talk to me, have you not?"

"I have," he agreed, looking out at the yard, at Jake, Jamie, and JoJo laughing brightly as Uncle Thor swung all of them from one mighty arm. He watched Aunt Pepper swoop in between the grooms to dance away with Pavel shrieking happily. He watched as she danced over to Uncle Tony with the baby and watched as they both pretended that no one else noticed when he pressed his hand gently to Pepper's belly where their own children were growing. He didn't want to know what it had taken to convince his attention hungry uncle to wait their own announcement until after the wedding. He chuckled a little to see Kurt with Amanda, the young woman Kurt had been crushing on for the better part of a year. He'd invited her to the wedding though they were both a little young to call it a date. They were happily dancing to the music, Amanda giggling at the way he integrated his teleportation powers into his dance moves. And Kurt, Kurt was grinning in a way he hadn't for quite a while. Neville was happy to see that the friendship that had the potential to blossom into romance a little later down the line was helping to bring Kurt out of his difficult angst-ridden pre-teen times. The whole house was feeling the relief.

"Then, talk to me now." Frigga brought him out of his focus on his family by pressing another kiss to his palm.

"Have I been that obvious?" He chuckled as he looked back at her.

He couldn't help the vision of a much older woman that super imposed itself over the beautiful woman who looked hundreds of years younger than she actually was. Instead of gorgeous blue eyes that held the wisdom of ages he saw eyes as green as his own. Instead of caramel hair loose and curled it was white and tied back in a severe bun. Instead of coral colored lips curled in a smile the lips were set in a permanent line by too much conflict and hardship in one lifetime. Instead of a flowing dress, sleeveless and the color of deepest emeralds, the clothing was a grey suit, conservatively cut and topped off by a ridiculous hat. It was the final image he had of the woman he barely remembered. That woman hadn't laughed, had only very rarely smiled, but she had shown him in dozens of different ways how much she loved him. He couldn't remember much of his life before Professor Xavier brought him to the Rogers house. But, one thing he did remember was her songs, singing him to sleep, little nursey rhymes, her voice strong and steady, despite her advanced years. He could remember the little lights and pretty pictures she used to draw on the ceiling with her wand for him while he was falling asleep. When he'd mentioned it to Uncle Loki, his uncle had taught him what he knew about wanded magic but it had all felt so limited and he'd learned to make the shapes and pictures just with the power of his mind to help himself fall asleep.

"Only to me, my lamb." Frigga assured him, "You haven't been settled as of late. Not quite as content as I'm used to seeing you. What is it? What is causing you such distress?"

"That's just it, Nana," He sat on the porch and leaned against her legs, allowing her to run her fingers through his hair as she'd done for so much of his life, "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I just… Something is coming and I don't know what it is. It's like if I could just turn around fast enough the something I keep seeing out of the corner of my eye would be right in front of me. It's been building for some time now and I can only think that if I could just catch a glimpse." He sighed. "Of course, I could just be restless with graduation having just happened. I could just be uncomfortable because I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I just…maybe I'm imagining it all."

"You're not."

It was testament to how often his uncle appeared out of nowhere that he and Frigga didn't even flinch when suddenly Loki was right beside the porch swing. His clothing was bright, to reflect the happiness of the day, but his expression was dark.

"You are not imagining any of it, Neville." Loki said quietly, "Something has been building for years. Something that is about to come to a head. You feel it instinctively. I wish you'd said something sooner. We never trained that particular talent in you as you never informed me you'd been feeling anything at all."

"I didn't know what it was!" Neville protested.

"And one of the first things I taught you was to trust your intuition," Loki argued back.

"Boys!" Frigga chided softly, glaring at them when Clarice grumbled in her sleep, "Neville, your uncle is right, you should have told one of us. We could have saved you much concern over this. Loki, stop pestering him. There have been so many events in his life recently it's no wonder he mistook the sensation for other concerns."

Both he and Loki smiled at her angelically and she rolled her eyes.

"The last time the magic on this planet felt so corrupted was just after you were born, love," Frigga continued, looking down at Neville, "The magic itself was nearly screaming with the distortion of such darkness. We were just about to step in, as we always have when things have gotten so concerning on any world, when it suddenly ended. In a single moment the most concerning light was snuffed out. It has slowly been building itself back since. We could have interfered sooner, of course, but we have been distracted these past few years."

Neville turned his face to kiss Frigga's hand where it rested on his shoulder, knowing that the distraction was his family.

"Where is it centered?" He asked.

"You tell us," Loki knelt in front of him and put two fingers to his forehead, "Close your eyes and focus. Find where the magic pulses with darkness. Find where the evil spreads out."

Neville did as he was told, closing his eyes and finding the next level to the world as he had been taught so many years before. The magic around him, the magic he was used to and that he used to work greeted him like an old friend, reaching out to him, asking him to use it, caressing him with bright tendrils. He gently turned it away and followed it further with his mind's eye. And the further he went the darker it go until the magic was no more than a dark twisting mass full of pain and loneliness. He forced himself not to cry out, but felt the tears on his cheeks when he looked up.

"UK," he said, wiping his tears away, "It's centered in the UK. Where I'm from."

"Yes," Loki nodded, "Very good. I'm very proud of you. I know it's not easy. We'll work the skill until it becomes second nature." He pulled away and stood, leaning against the porch railing, looking at his mother and nephew, "There are small pockets of magic users all over Midgard. The community in The United Kingdom can get particularly…stiff-necked and are sometimes willfully blind. They like to think they are the oldest magic users in the universe and that their traditions are the only traditions worth anything." Loki rolled his eyes and Frigga and Neville laughed.

"We shouldn't allow them to get so out of control this time around," Frigga said quietly when they'd calmed.

"We shouldn't," Loki agreed, then set his hand on Neville's shoulders. Neville looked up at him in surprise then grinned when he realized that it was an invitation that his uncle was extending to join them while they made sure everything remained under control, as had been Asgard and her peoples' charge since nearly the dawn of time. He felt the pride swell in his heart and for the first time in months knew for certain what he wanted to do with his life, at least for a time. He only had one question for his uncle.

"When do we leave?"


	2. Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

"No."

"No."

Neville resisted the first urge that came to him and kept his mouth shut, even managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes though he did share a small smile with his Nana when she winked at him. They'd all known that the trip to the United Kingdom was going to be a hard sell when it came to his fathers, both so caring and protective when it came to their children. In fact, Uncle Loki had bet him the first revelation working, always a bastard to get the magic to cooperate on those because they were so boring, that the first word out of one or the other's mouth was going to be "No" without hearing anything else. He grinned at his uncle while Loki scowled. He'd bet that both of them would say it together. Apparently, he didn't hide his amusement well enough, because both of his parents were looking at him with scowls on their faces, a far cry from the smiles that had been on them all of the day before. Neville couldn't blame them, of course. His grandmother had recommended he wait until after they returned from their honeymoon to broach the topic of going into a potential dangerous situation, but he hadn't been able to wait, even though his uncle said that the situation could probably wait the ten days his parents would be gone.

"Dad, Papa…" he cleared his throat.

"Don't even start, Nev," his dad held up a hand, "I know you and I know you've probably written down bullet points of the very logical reasons you should be allowed to go, but…"

Neville quietly put the notebook paper he'd been about to unfold back into his pocket and looked at his dad, holding his papa's hand and, for just a moment, saw his parents and their thoughts as they were, written plainly across their faces. It would be so easy to think that they simply wanted to hold him back, that they weren't ready to let him leave the nest, but that wasn't it at all. What was on their faces, in their eyes, was fear. They were scared for him. They were his parents and they loved him and they were scared for him. And he couldn't blame them. He was kind of scared to be going himself. There was no telling what would happen in this new life that he was starting for himself. It was easy to see their fear, easy to understand it, but he couldn't allow himself to give into their fear or his own. He was a magic-user. One of the most powerful in the multiverse, according to his uncle and Stephen Strange, who'd tutored him in multi-verse magic, and he had a responsibility to the magic he accessed most often and to the people of his world to use it responsibly and correct those who weren't doing the same.

He reached out to his parents and waited for each of them to take one of his hands, "Dad," He smiled at Steve who tried to smile back. "Papa," He smiled at Leonard who scowled at him then looked down, "I think we've all known that I wasn't going to be one for school. I feel like this is maybe what I need to be doing with my life. Dad, you've taught me all my life that those who have power are supposed to use to help those who don't. Whether helping them means going out to fight the monsters, raising the kids no one else wants, or taking care of the health of a small town." They both chuckled a little at that and they were finally both looking at him again. "This is what I can do to help. I have the power and I want to use it."

He could see that they were giving in and knew that they were going to let him go, and couldn't help but add brightly, "And, Uncle Loki will be with me the whole time!"

"God, like that's supposed to help," Leonard grumped and pulled his hand away, throwing it up in the air. Steve snorted, trying to keep his laughter in.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends, Leonard," Loki smirked over his coffee mug and lifted it in salute when Len simply threw him the bird.

"Len," Steve said softly, looking into his new husband's eyes, "We can't hold him back."

"You think I don't know that?" Len stood and stalked over to the window, "I just…"

"I know," Steve moved to him and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, placing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

"Neville," Len didn't look at him, but Neville didn't mind. He knew that his Papa had a hard time showing his strong emotions, "I'm worried for you, son. I just got you and now you're going off to start your own life. A dangerous life, by all accounts. And that's hard for me. And it's going to be hard for your brothers and sisters, having you gone. I, uh…I want you to be careful and you call us if you need us. We'll come. You know that?"

"Of course I know that, Papa." Neville could feel the tears he wouldn't let fall slicking his throat.

"Norns, save us all from Midgardian drama," Loki drawled, bringing all three of them out of their moment. Neville turned a glare on his uncle, but all his uncle did was roll his eyes, "You're all acting as if this is the last time you'll see each other. Between Neville and I the situation should be brought to heel shortly. We'll probably be back before your honeymoon trip is over. You can trust me."

"Brother, I'm letting you take my oldest son into a potentially life-threatening situation. If there's anything else that would prove to you that I trust you I can't think of what it might be," Steve snapped before turning back to his husband.

Neville watched a happy shock cross his uncle's face before he carefully schooled his expression back into boredom, "Fair point…brother. I'll just…see that The Trio isn't going to burn down the house. Neville, let me know when you're ready to leave."

When Loki was out of the room, Neville stood up and walked over to his fathers. Steve pulled away from Leonard and opened his arms so that he could wrap them around Neville's leaner frame. Neville was too tall to really snuggle into his father the way he had when he was younger, but he laid his head on the broad shoulder and held on, letting himself feel comforted and as young as he was. It was only made better when Len moved in behind them and wrapped his arms around them both.

"It's going to be fine," He whispered to his parents.

"Of course it is," Leonard agreed, "You're smarter than me."

"Stronger than me," Steve put in, "And you know how to do things that neither of us can understand in the slightest. Be careful as you leave us, Nev. Take care of yourself. And your uncle."

"And for God's sake, keep your guard up on your left side," Leonard swiped a hand over Neville's messy hair, mussing it a little more, "You're still dropping it whether you're sparring with fists or magic."

"I'll keep that in mind, Papa."

"Say goodbye to your brothers and sisters before you go. We love you, son."

"I love you both, too."

He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he walked out of the kitchen and saw that his uncle had already packed him a bag. He rolled his eyes at the drama of the old-fashioned suitcase that Loki has chosen and moved into the living room where his Nana and Pavel were playing with a matching game that the baby was so much better at then a child his age should be. He smiled his little gummy smile and reached up his hands for Neville.

"I've got to go now, little one," Neville swooped him up and kissed his chubby cheek before settling him on his hip and nuzzling his sweet-smelling hair, "I've got work to do. But, I'll be back soon. Maybe bring you a new puzzle, hmm?" The baby just leaned into him for a moment and patted his unshaven face.

"Be brave and true, my lamb," Frigga kissed him and held him close for just a moment, "Call upon me if you need me and come home to us all soon."

He allowed himself to cling to his grandmother for just a moment before he handed the baby off to her with a final kiss and moved out of the room to find The Trio sitting at the bottom of the stairs in a line, none of them moving an inch, which was unusual enough in and of itself, but it was their expressions that stopped him in his tracks. All of them were happy children by nature and the fact that not a single one of them was smiling was heartbreaking to him. He knelt in front of them and wrapped them all up in his arms. Jake and JoJo buried their faces against either side of his neck and Jamie pressed against his chest.

"You've always been here," Jake whimpered.

"Who's going to make popcorn balls at Christmas?" Jamie asked.

"And we're right in the middle of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. No one does the voices like you." JoJo sniffled.

"Hey now!" He pushed them all back gently to look at them. JoJo and Jake weren't hiding their tears and though Jamie wasn't crying he still looked miserable, "It's not like I'm going to be gone forever. I'll be back a long time before Christmas and, how about this, every night I can I'll get in contact with you using the mirror in your room and we'll read another chapter. Hmm? How does that sound? And when I come back I'll bring you all something fun?"

"I want a snow globe," Jake whispered, miserably, "With the London Eye."

"You got it. JoJo?"

"A snow globe with the London Tower?"

"Absolutely. How about you, Jamie? A snow globe?"

"Yes," Jamie nodded, "With Buckingham Palace?"

"Of course. And anything else I find that reminds me of you three while I'm gone. I'm trusting you all to be good for Nana while Dad and Papa are gone. No craziness, okay? She's only one person."

After a couple more tearful hugs he sent them upstairs to their rooms, knowing that he couldn't get away from the last two goodbyes and dreading them awfully. The brother and sister he had known for the longest, who had been in his heart for the longest were yet to come. He sighed and moved toward the door, picking up his suitcase as he went. As he walked out of the door he had to stop short at the sight of his brother and sister on the porch. Clarice was leaning against the railing and Kurt was perched on it. Clarice had long, wide box in her hands that she held out to him as he approached. Kurt was smiling, letting his fangs show, and Clarice was smirking.

"Waterlogged?" She asked.

"Entirely," He answered, moving to them and leaning on the banister himself, "You two planning on crying all over me, too?"

"Hell no!" Kurt grinned, "Glad to be getting rid of you, more like!"

They all laughed for a minute then stood in companionable silence, simply breathing each other in. In their silence he heard more than he heard in his parents' worries, more than he heard in The Trio's noisy tears and his grandmother's quiet well-wishes. In their silence he hear their concern and in their silence he heard their love. And he could feel nothing but love in return.

"We knew that you'd be leaving sooner or later," Clarice said after a few minutes, "So we bought something for you."

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah," Kurt affirmed, "Miss Mary Elizabeth ordered it special for you when we told her what we had in mind."

"We figured you'd appreciate the drama," Clarice said, "I mean, Uncle Loki does the fitted suits and scarves."

"That douche Strange has his weirdo cloak." Kurt rolled his eyes. Stephen Strange hadn't made much of an impression on him the few times he'd visited, treating Steve and all of his children as if he was below them until Neville had mastered and surpassed him in dimensional magic four lessons in. He'd bowed out gracefully from being Neville's teacher after that and treated them much better when he was leaving than when he'd come. He'd even apologized to all of them before he'd left but Kurt was the kind to hold a grudge.

"We figured you needed something dramatic that people will remember." Clarice finished.

Neville gasped and tore the package out of her hands before he began ripping it open, marveling at the gorgeous ankle-length coat he pulled out of it, "You guys got me a fucking Belstaff Milford," He sighed as he slipped it on, "God, it's gorgeous."

"Need a room, Nev?" Kurt asked, trying to hide how pleased he was with Neville's reaction.

"Thank you both so much!" He grabbed them both and pulled them close, "I'll see you both soon, yeah?"

"Better," Clarice whispered, "I'll miss you, my giant."

"I'll miss you, too, little one," he kissed her hair, "And you, Nightcrawler."

Kurt huffed, but he squeezed tight for just a moment before he disappeared from Neville's arms in a puff of foul smoke.

"I got him," Clarice pulled away with a smile and a roll of her eyes, "Boys and their emotional constipation. Be safe, Nev." With that she disappeared into one of her black holes that had appeared behind her.

"Don't you look stunning?" Loki grinned as he stepped out of the house, "Very dramatic. It will definitely make an impression. Might I suggest just one minor alteration?" He stepped up to Neville and popped the collar of the coat up. Neville grinned at him.

"Now," Loki cleared his throat, "To work. Close your eyes and follow the magic again. Find us the source. Or the most powerful source if there is more than one."

Neville did as he was told, trying to soothe the hurting magic when he found it, until he found a bright light surrounded by the dark, the dark trying to smother it out.

"Seems like as good a place to start as any," Loki whispered in his ear, "Take us there."

Neville waited until he felt his uncle put a hand on his shoulder and then pushed toward the power signal. The sensation of travelling without moving lasted only a moment and when he opened his eyes again it was to three people sitting around a table. A rather shocked looking redhead with food falling out of his open mouth, a lovely young woman with rather unfortunate hair tied behind her head in a bushy tail and the most stunning young man he'd ever seen. He felt like he could fall into the gorgeous eyes looking back at him.

And then the young man spoke.

"Who the hell are you?"


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> Thanks for waiting on this. Neville's story...in fact all of the kids' stories...will not be overly long. I anticipate 2 or 3 more chapters for this and then we will move on to Clarice. See the end of the chapter if you want to see how the pairings have evolved as I thought through them more. Opinions and suggestions are always welcome! :)

The ginger, Ron, would not stop staring at him. At least he'd down-graded the look from distrustful glares the past few days and replaced them with something that looked like a confused curiosity. Even though they'd all been travelling together for the better part of a fortnight Neville had yet to find any common ground that would lead to the young wizard trusting him. It didn't seem to help matters that the wizard in question seemed to have a major trust issues that he covered with a major attitude problem anyway. Neville was trying to be understanding. The three people he and Loki had found in the tent that day were on edge, exhausted, and discouraged. They'd been looking for the horcruxes created by the dark wizard that was causing so much obscurity in the magic of the world for months with very little success. They'd fractured and come together again broken, but stronger. For so long it had only been the three of them, searching, trying, hoping that those they loved would still be alive when it was all over. It was no wonder that Ron found it hard to trust two people who appeared so suddenly, especially when one had previously attacked and tried to bring the planet under his control. It was why Loki had only stayed with them a very short time before leaving to research. For Harry, Ron, and Hermione who his uncle had once been had triggered thoughts and memories of this…Lord Voldemort that they were fighting. They hadn't been raised with the gentle, loving, confused man that Neville had known so much of his life.

"Guard your heart, nephew," Loki had whispered as embraced him before he left.

"My heart?" Neville had snorted in laughter, "As if that's an issue."

"Ah, but Neville," His uncle had grinned the grin that made him look like a shark, the one that he only used now when he was certain he was right, "When have you ever been able to lie to me?"

"I…" Neville hadn't been able to deny it when his uncle's eyes slid over to the young man with the ancient eyes sitting at the table, trying to hide the fact that he was watching them both.

"So much like your father," Loki had grinned and cupped his face in his hands, "Knowing whom you want the instant you lay eyes on him. But, again, nephew, guard your heart. There is a war on and he at the center of it somehow."

"You think I don't see that, Uncle?" Neville had asked softly.

"I think you will willfully blind yourself to it," Loki answered honestly, "If you fall for him."

"Well, it's simple then," He'd answered flippantly, "I just won't fall for him."

He should have known better than to say the words. It was like daring fate. And fate had responded. Because every time he'd looked into those green eyes, seen the heartbreak and the strength they contained, he hadn't been able to help but fall a little deeper. There had been so many nights that they had been the last two awake as Ron and Hermione had laid next to each other in the bed, facing each other, yet never touching and they had talked. For hours, for what felt like days. Harry had opened his heart to Neville, confessed things to him in a way that can only be confessed when you don't have the burden of expectation from a years long friendship making it impossible to seem weak, to seem vulnerable. Harry had practically been begging for a companion without judgement and Neville was happy to be that for him. There were times when all he wanted to do was take Harry in his arms, kiss him gently, and hold him while whispering to him that he did deserve happiness, that nothing in his crap life had been his fault. Sometimes when Harry looked at him he could almost see his feelings reflected in those startling green eyes, but he'd known enough men who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. Harry wouldn't want to allow himself to have something good until the bad was resolved.

He couldn't handle Ron's staring any longer. But, just to annoy him he winked before he got up from the table. It always made Ron splutter and redden in the face in a way that made Neville laugh when he acted flirtatious with him. He knew Ron didn't have anything against him or his sexuality, but Ron was as straight as they came, and in love with Hermione though he wouldn't admit, and he always felt the need to keep up appearances. Just to see the red go all the way up to his ears he blew the ginger a kiss before he stepped out of the tent and into the winter cold. It was a cold that they didn't have in Colorado. More wet, less biting. Just the tiniest dusting of snow. He breathed it in deep. There was something about it that just felt so familiar and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat and began to walk. They moved around every other day or so, and when they'd first got to their current location he'd found a tree that reminded him of one that he'd climbed for years in the woods behind his house. It reminded him of home.

He felt a poignant wave of homesickness travel through him as he sat at the base of the tree and closed his eyes. The moment he let himself see the magic that surrounded him it greeted him like an old friend, caressing his cheek and asking him to work with it. He could feel the smile spread across his face as he requested that the magic surrounding him protect him on his travels. With an affirmative feeling from it he let his conscious drift as Dr. Strange had once taught him to, allowed his mind and a projection of his body to travel miles, across the ocean and to where his family home. They were sleeping, of course. It wouldn't do to let The Trio see him awake if he wasn't able to spend any time with them. He'd read with them just a couple of days before, but they always begged him to extend their time together. Jamie was on his back, stationary on his bed, sleeping like the dead as he always did. JoJo was curled in the middle of her bed like a cat. And Jake was spread out like a starfish. He smiled and made himself just corporeal enough to press kisses to their foreheads before he moved on. Pasha was sleeping sweetly in his crib. Clarice had fallen asleep studying at her desk. He pulled a blanket up around her shoulders. Kurt's light was on and he was reading the latest copy of some business magazine that Aunt Pepper and Uncle Tony were on the front of.

"To sleep, Nightcrawler," Neville whispered in his ear and turned off the lamp clipped to the side of his bed.

Kurt had almost been asleep anyway, so he just yawned and rolled over, whispering a goodnight to Neville. Neville pushed a lock of hair out of his face and took himself down to the kitchen. His dads were next to each other at the sink, washing dishes. They weren't saying anything, but every once in a while, one of them would run a finger down the other's arm or bump their hips together so that they both smiled, just keeping them connected. He wanted a love like they'd found, where they simply fit together, no matter how long, or not, they'd known each other. And something in him was saying that Harry was going to be it for him.

"Were you going to say something, or just going to lurk, son?" Steve asked after a minute.

"Jesus!" Len turned around, a hand to his heart, "How the...How did you? And how is he?"

"There's a smell, like lightning," Steve said quietly, "When he's projecting. And he can do it because he's just that good." He grinned at his son.

Neville grinned back.

"Powerful," Len agreed, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He sniffed the air and nodded to himself, as if confirming what Steve had just said. Neville knew he'd never be able to sneak up on his Papa ever again. At least not that way.

"Is this a pleasure visit, Nev?" His dad asked, "Or do you need us?"

Neville only just realized how tense both of his fathers were and held up his hands in a placating gesture, "I just missed everyone. Wanted to see you all."

His dads relaxed and turned back to the dishes as Neville sat his projection on the counter next to them.

"How goes the search?" Len asked.

"Okay…" Neville sighed, "I've located three possible patches of dark magic. I want to bring them to us so that we can destroy them safely. The others have already proved that the sword they carry around with them will destroy these things."

"But?" Len prompted.

"I've never seen anything like this," Neville admitted, running a hand through his hair, "It's…the patches of darkness…the wizard has separated them from his own soul, literally, and imbued the objects with them. The dark magic that surrounds them fights me on every turn. I'm working it out and, given enough time, I know I could bring them to me, but the others…Ron especially, they lack patience. I know that those they love are suffering at the school they attend. And I know their world feels like it's falling apart, but if they could just…what?" He looked over to see both of his father's grinning at him.

"You've grown so much, Nev," Steve said gently, "In just the few weeks you've been away from us. They lack patience…" He chuckled softly and let his hand drift over to where Neville's projection sat, running his hand just over his head. If Neville concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of his skin.

"What does your uncle say?" Len asked.

"Not much," Neville admitted, trying not to be too embarrassed by his parents' pride, "He's doing his own research on Asgard. The others aren't quite comfortable with him around."

"Who is?" Len muttered and made a sound of displeasure from the back of his throat when Steve reached over fast as a snake and smacked the flat of his hand against his husband's stomach.

Neville laughed and then sighed, "I should probably be getting back."

"You call us if you need us, son," Len said, suddenly serious, "You know your nana can have us all there in a heartbeat."

"I know," Neville smiled at them, suddenly overcome with affection for his whole family, "I love you all."

"We love you, too, son." Steve set a hand over his heart, "Stay safe."

Neville pulled his projection back to his body and felt the lingering smile on his lips before he opened his eyes to see Harry looking down at him, his head tilted to the side, a question in his eyes.

"Where do you go when you do that?" He verbalized the question, "And how do you keep yourself safe? I could be anyone."

"The light magic wouldn't have let you near me if you were a threat," Neville smiled at the confusion in Harry's eyes. There was so much he wanted to share with him, so much he yearned to be able to show him.

"The light magic," Harry murmured, "You know, some day, when we're not all trying to save the world from a maniac you're going to have to show me what you mean."

"I will," For Neville, it was a promise, "As for where I go…I missed my family. I was just checking on them. Had a short talk with my dads. Tucked my little brother in. Things like that."

"You haven't spoken about your family to me yet." Harry sat next to him and leaned against his side and Neville didn't protest. He didn't even think about it when he wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder. It was winter and cold, it was only natural to share body heat when they were sitting outside.

"My family…" Neville laughed, "They're chaos and energy and I love them all so much."

Once was the dam was opened he found he couldn't stop. He wanted Harry to know his family, to love them as he did. He described Pasha's sweetness and the intelligence they all knew was just waiting to surprise them. He told Harry of The Trio and their legendary ability to get in trouble, even before they were The Trio. He told him about Jake's vulnerability, Jamie's confidence, and JoJo's struggle with her physical mutation. He told Harry about his Nightcrawler and his Little One, the first in his heart and the ones who made him believe he could trust Steve Rogers to love him and take care of him. He told Harry things he'd never told anyone else, like how his father had come into his room before his Uncle and Nana had come to them to train him, how Steve had held him, assuming he was asleep, and begged him and God, to heal him, to keep him safe. He told Harry how relieved he'd been when his father had fallen in love because now he had someone else to help shoulder the burden of worry. He told Harry about his Papa's wounded heart, how sometimes he looked at him and could almost see the bleeding wounds that were closing and healing the longer he had his true family around him. He laughed when he told Harry about the animosity between his Papa and his Uncle, though they would never admit that they truly liked each other.

And he told Harry about the heartbreak all of the Rogers children experienced in that none of them knew who they really were, no one of them knew where they'd come from, save for JoJo, who still struggled with what her mother had made her feel about herself. For the rest of them, save him, were they experiments? Had they been birthed or grown in a lab? Though he knew that he'd been born, that he'd had family before Steve Rogers, no one had ever come to claim him, to claim the beautiful, stately older woman he'd been found in the hotel room with. He tried to make Harry understand how much he loved his family, but how much it still hurt not to know where he'd come from.

"Neville," Harry turned slightly and set his fingers to Neville's lips to stop his words, "I…I understand. As much as I love my friends, the family I've found now…I can't help but wonder what it would have been like. What if I wasn't The Boy Who Lived? What if Voldemort had never existed? What if I had my family instead of having to save everyone else's family? I just…I never asked for the burden…I never asked to be chosen. All I want is…a normal life." Neville could see the shame in his eyes as he admitted it and he couldn't stand to see it.

"Harry," He shifted on his hip and cupped Harry's face with his hand, the cold a shock to his skin. Harry set a hand over the one on his face and closed his eyes. "Harry," He repeated, "When all of this is over, if it's still what you want, I'll take you away for a while. You can come home with me to the mountains, to my dads…my family. We can give you normal for a while. As normal as we get, anyway. Rest, affection, entirely too many people in one house who are always in your business in the most loving way possible."

"That sounds perfect," Neville could see how much of a struggle the words were to get around the hope that was rising in him, a hope that he didn't want to admit to in case it was snatched away, "Neville…I…" The single tear Harry allowed to slip from his broke Neville's resolve to let Harry make the first move.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured and leaned in, stopping just a hair's breath away from Harry's lips until they were breathing the same air. Both of their eyes fluttered closed just as their lips touched for the first time.

Neville had kissed people before. Not many, and not out of passion on his side. More out of curiosity. It had never felt more than…wet…a little awkward. But, with Harry he finally understood why so many people said that kissing was wonderful, why he caught his dads so often, not necessarily in the throes of passion, but simply touching their lips together, sharing breath. He'd never felt more connected to another person. He tore himself away for just a moment when Harry threw his leg over and was suddenly straddling him. And then they were connected again and he knew that he would never love anyone the way he loved Harry as they shared their second kiss.

Harry was the one to tear away when they heard Ron calling for them. He sounded different, almost…excited. Harry pressed a final, chaste kiss to Neville's lips and then stood, straightening his cloak and clothing, not bothering to try to straighten his hair, which wouldn't have done any good. His dazzling smile as he held out his hand to Neville took his breath away and he took the offered hand, more pleased than he could say when Harry kept hold of him as they made their way back to the tent.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked when his best friend didn't seem inclined to share, too focused on their joined hands.

"I figured out where I know Neville from," Ron finally said. He held out a picture that had seen better days, curled in at the edges. Neville took it, somehow knowing that this one picture would change everything. He looked down at it and his eyes were immediately drawn to two faces that he could see his own in. His chin, her nose, his grin, her eyes.

"You're almost as famous as Harry, mate." Ron said, uncharacteristically gentle, "You're the lost Longbottom Heir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: 
> 
> Neville/Harry (Harry Potter/Harry Potter)  
> Clarice/Eggsy/Tilde *endgame (X-men/Kingsman/Kingsman) Clarice/OC temporarily  
> Kurt/Roxy (X-Men/Kingsman)  
> Jamie/Penelope (Avengers - Clone of the Winter Soldier/Criminal Minds)  
> Jake/Cougar (Losers - Clone of Captain America/Losers)  
> Johanna/One of the Winchesters (Star Trek/Supernatural) Which Winchester I could use some help on,   
>  as I can see her with either.  
> Pavel/Sulu (Star Trek/Star Trek)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> I am not super happy with this, but if I don't post it I might never do it. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Mention of past child abuse to a primary character by a secondary character. Punishment of secondary character by another by the removing on a tongue.

"Neville," He could hear the whisper from behind him, but he couldn't find the words to respond to his lover. They were trapped in a throat that had closed with the unexpected emotion rising in his chest as he viewed the couple in front of him. Frank and Alice Longbottom were sleeping fitfully in separate beds. They were in nearly identical dressing gowns and the space between their beds was only wide enough to have a single chair between them, as if allowing the beds' occupants to reach out and touch each other if they had the inclination. From what Neville had seen when he cast the simple spell to look into their pasts, they didn't even have the awareness any longer to reach out to each other. The fact that they were sleeping at all seemed to be something of a minor miracle. That he could see himself even clearer in their faces, aged before their time by violence and the ensuing madness, when he was in the room with them made him, more than anything, want his Dad with there with him so he could hide in his strong arms and pretend he'd never learned this heartbreaking truth about his biological parents.

He'd been too old when he was adopted to ever know he was anything but, yet he had never struggled with it. Steven Rogers was his father in every way. Steve was the one who sat by his bedside when he was ill, who celebrated his every accomplishment, who had always been the one to pick him up when he fell. Steve Rogers was the one who had taught him how to be tough, yet kind, how to forgive, how to love. Steve was his Dad. And, even finding out where he came from, would never change that. And right then he wanted him more than anything. Because, these were his parents. They'd given birth to him and, from what he'd been told, they had loved him more than anything. It was strange that he could see himself in them, and mourn them in a kind of distant way, but he was more distraught that he could look at them and really, truly not feel much aside from the horror at their conditions and the anger that magic had been manipulated to do something it naturally would never do.

"I…" He tried to force the words out of his throat and found them still trapped, so instead he whirled around and leaned over to press his forehead to Harry's.

I'm a terrible person, he said quietly, directly into Harry's mind. He kept his eyes closed tightly, afraid of what he would see reflected in Harry's own.

"Why is that?" Harry whispered aloud. Neville shook away the thought that he wanted to teach Harry to be able to project directly into his mind as well.

I…You never knew your parents, Harry, but you miss them every day. You'd give anything to see them. And I…I have my parents right in front of me and the only thing I feel is…well, it's…I…can't feel…

"Neville," Harry said quietly, but firmly, "Look at me, love." Neville opened his eyes and was so relieved to see the love still in Harry's eyes that his knees almost went weak. Harry looked at him for a minute before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Neville, love," Harry finally said, "You had family who loved you and cared for you from the start. Your grandmother and then your father and brothers and sister. You've always known love. That's the difference. I was never seen as anything more than a burden. A horrid, wicked burden at that." He laughed quietly and Neville couldn't help but laugh with him.

"You were never a burden, Harry. You never could have been."

"Oh, I was at times," Harry murmured, "My point it…All my life I dreamed of those who would love me. You didn't have to. You already had them. That's the difference. Loving those who have always loved you is not something to be ashamed of. Appreciating the people who are in those beds, recognizing their sacrifice, that's what's important. You don't have to love them. I don't expect you to, and I'm sure if they were able to, they'd tell you the same thing."

"I love you," Neville whispered as he gathered Harry to him and buried his face in the juncture between Harry's neck and shoulder, hiding away from the world in his love's support and scent.

Harry just stroked his hair, letting himself be held, ignoring the fact that he had to stand on his toes to allow Neville to hold him like he was, "I love you, too."

They stood in the quiet for what felt like forever, just holding each other and breathing each other in, happy in the quiet. They'd told Ron and Hermione that they were going to be out for the afternoon, and had tried to pretend that they hadn't seen the eagerness on their friends' faces to be alone. It was hard when you had two couples living in close quarters trying to be thoughtful and not annoy the hell out of each other, no matter how much they wanted to tear the clothes off of their partners at any given time. Him and Harry admitting their feelings had led to Ron and Hermione doing the same and while most of the tension that had been prevalent in the tent prior to the admissions had dissipated, it led to another kind of tension between the couples that was frustrating all of them. While Neville would have liked to be able to take Harry to a hotel, peel off all his clothes, and let them have their way with each other, it was almost as satisfying to just be able to hold him in the quiet, no expectations, no pressing needs. It was nice to pretend that they were the only two in the world and that nothing bad was happening.

Standing there, breathing in Harry's scent, focused only on him, the something that had been in the back of his mind for weeks, digging into him at the most random moments, began to grow louder and louder. He'd never let it capture so much of his attention, but when he was finally focused on it, he realized it was the white magic that surrounded him trying to tell him something that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. He pulled back from Harry, his brow furrowed as he looked at his lover. Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

Just hold still…Neville murmured into his mind. Neville closed his eyes to the physical world to view the magic that surrounded him. It was moving in a way he'd never seen before, not white smooth swirls, but darting, almost glowing, as if agitated and with lightning within in. He almost heard his uncle's voice in his head, urging him to look deeper, not to shy away because of his feelings for Harry. Because something was off. Something had always been off and the magic had been trying to tell him, but he'd ignored it. He was carefully, so carefully sorting through the protective magics that swirled around Harry, and he was almost to his goal, he knew, when his concentration was shattered by the door to the room bursting open and slamming against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing in my nephew's room?!" The man roared. Neville stood up straighter in response to his yelling and forced himself not to push Harry behind him. He didn't need Neville's protection. He was strong in his own right. He noticed that Harry straightened up to his full height when he was being yelled at as well. Neither of them did well with people yelling at them, or trying to order them around.

"Since when did visiting a pair of war heroes to pay respect become a crime?" Harry asked quietly.

"And who the hell are you?" The man's volume and anger didn't lower at all and Neville could see the pair in the beds begin to shift uncomfortably. The last thing a pair of damaged individuals would need was the anger and volume the man in front of them was displaying. Neville flicked a hand and put up an invisible, soundproof barrier around them and felt, more than watched, them fall deeper asleep again.

"Harry Potter." Harry wasn't one to use his name to get anything, but he also wasn't above using it when need be.

"Potter…" That took the wind out of the man's sails and finally Neville got a good look at him. He was tall, like Neville, like the man in the bed, though not nearly as thin as either of them, more solid in muscle mass. His hair was still dark, but liberally striped with silver streaks. His face, even when he calmed, was red in a way that spoke of years of heavy drinking. His eyes were the same as the eyes of the man in picture that Ron had given Neville. A slip of a memory pushed its way into Neville's mind.

"Come on, boy," Neville couldn't stop himself from saying the words that came into his mind, "Do something. I'll drop you, I swear." He looked up at the man, "What kind of man hangs a seven-year-old out of a window and actually drops him for pie?"

"What?" The man's red face seemed to drain of all blood, and he took a step back, "What are you…How could you…How could you know about that?"

"Neville…sweetheart…" Harry put a hand on his arm.

"Neville?" The man, his great-uncle Algie, Neville finally remembered, stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand to him. Neville took a step back. Algie looked back and forth between the two lying in the beds and Neville, looking at every curve of his face, everything that matched with the two who had been lost to him, "Bleeding Christ, it is you!"

"Algie?" He asked, uncertain.

"Bloody hell, boy, of course it's Algie!" The man was almost roaring again as he took another step forward, as if wanting to take Neville in his arms. Neville held up his hands and Algie was stopped in his tracks.

"How are you doing that without a wand?" He asked, struggling against the barrier, his face getting red again as Neville denied him what he wanted.

"I've trained for years in every magical style," Neville answered truthfully, "Wands and other magical artifacts are too limiting for me."

"Insulting what's been good enough for our family for thousands of years? Sounding like an American!" Algie really was back to roaring, "Who the hell raised you, boy? I'll kill them for not putting respect in you! And I'll kill that woman for taking you away, for almost killing the Longbottom line! Not that you didn't already do that yourself! Fucking faggot with Harry Potter, the golden child, no less! "

As Algie spoke the anger began to build in Neville. He'd never been an angry person, but the way the man he hardly knew was talking about him, about his family, about his grandmother, about Harry, was bringing up emotion in him that he couldn't control. And the angrier he got, the more things came back to him. Algie had been drinking more and more since Frank and Alice had been taken to St. Mungo's and nothing was able to be done for them. He'd always been a strict man, speaking to Frank as if he was his father instead of his uncle when his brother died, telling Frank that it would be up to him to continue the family name, that their name was everything and that Algie would rather see him dead than see him shame their illustrious name. He'd been the same way with Neville, but as it became obvious that Neville was going to be the last chance for the Longbottom line stern teaching and words had turned into abuse. Neville ate too much? A whipping. Neville didn't do well on a spelling test in his primary school? No food or water for two days. Neville attempted to stand up for himself? A punch to the ribs. Never anywhere someone would see. Enid and Augusta tried to keep him safe, but they were as much Algie's victims as he was.

On their final night, Algie had thrown him across the room, breaking his arms and giving him a concussion, before he hung him out the window, threating to kill him if he didn't show some kind of magical skill, while Augusta, his sister-in-law, and Enid, his own wife, begged him to bring Neville back in, tried to explain that Augusta had put a power draining spell on him because his power was hurting him, that he wasn't powerless, that he wouldn't shame the family name. But, Algie had been too drunk to hear what they were trying to tell him and it was only when, out of desperation, Enid had conjured some of his favorite pie from the kitchen into her hand, that he'd calmed at all. Calmed just enough to drop Neville. Luckily, he was still powerful enough that all that happened was that he'd landed harmlessly on the ground, even bouncing a little. As soon as Algie had passed out Augusta and Enid had torn through the house like whirlwinds, putting together bags for Augusta and Neville. Casting spells of protection and to keep them from being tracked. They'd left in the dead of night. Because Augusta and Enid had known. Were Neville to stay there eventually Algie would kill him. A flash of Enid's broken body, from Algie's memories, was suddenly in Neville's mind and he knew that his uncle had killed her in a rage. His grandmother taking him away was the only thing that had saved his life.

"The Longbottom line is dead!" Neville said quietly, his voice cold as ice. He wasn't even trying to control it as a wind came up around him. If he had been better in his mind he would have noticed that Harry and his parents were spared from his wrath and untouched by the wind or the things it was picking up, "I am Neville Rogers-McCoy! Son of Steven Rogers and Leonard McCoy. Trained by Loki Oddinsson and Frigga, the All-Mother. I am more powerful than you will ever hope to be you pathetic, bigoted, old man. And all of the pain that you visited upon me, upon my grandmother, upon your wife, I will visit upon you tenfold!"

"That is quite enough, nephew." Loki's bored voice had Neville whipping his head toward the back of the room where Loki stood, leaning against the wall, looking as relaxed as Neville had ever seen him, in his Asgardian leathers.

"Uncle, he…" Neville howled, his voice like a wounded animal.

"I know what he did," Loki said, approaching Neville slowly, his hands held out placatingly. He was not a stupid man. He knew that his nephew was more powerful than he could ever hope to be, "But, he will be the last of his line. That is punishment enough. Let it die. And let him die knowing it. We do not visit our anger on others, even when they deserve it." The wind was down to a breeze by the time Loki had put his arms around Neville, "I know better than most that it does not give you the satisfaction you seek."

"Uncle!" Neville fell into Loki's arms, sobbing. Loki pressed a gentle kiss of Neville's forehead and whispered a word that had him asleep in seconds so that Loki could sweep him up in his arms.

"I'm going to take him home, Harry Potter," Loki said quietly, stroking Neville's hair gently, "He needs his family now. Would you like to join us or would you like me to send you back to your friends? Neville will return when he's able."

"I…" Harry looked like the only thing he wanted was to be with Neville, but he knew what was at stake, "Send me back to them. When he's ready tell him to find us again. And…tell him I love him?"

"Of course." Loki flicked his wrist and Harry was gone. Then he turned to the man on his knees in the middle of the floor, his mouth open with shock.

"You will die alone, Algie Longbottom, knowing that you might have had your precious family name continue if only you had been a decent human. But now, because of you and you alone, it will die. And you, you will never be able to speak a word against my nephew again."

Loki didn't even bat an eye at the shriek of disbelief that came from the man's mouth when he realized that his tongue had been removed as he and Neville disappeared from the room.


End file.
